


Daddy Dadneto

by Fullmetalcarer



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Breathplay, Daddy Kink, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 16:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11809950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer
Summary: Charles is sick and tired of always being in control. Sometimes he need someone else to take over. Erik will give him everything he needs.





	Daddy Dadneto

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acherik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acherik/gifts).



> Posting this from tumblr.
> 
> Inspired by a comment of acherik's ;)

Both naked. Entangled on the bed. Bedroom windows thrown wide open because it was an oppressively hot summer night. Charles face down. Erik lying half on top of him, exploring his shoulders and back and ass with hands and lips and tongue. His ass wasn't the perfect thing it once had been. Even extensive physiotherapy and Hank's weird electro-stimulation machine couldn't stop all muscle loss. It was still a remarkably fine ass and, most importantly, it was Charles' ass. He'd retained some feeling below the injury; a patch on his right hip, parts of his upper thighs and most of his left buttock.

Erik felt a sudden urge to spank that left buttock.

_Yes! Spank me, Dadneto!_

His hand was raised, ready to strike, when he realised the urge was not his own.

"Stop mind controlling me into smacking your ass, Prof XXX."

Charles laughed, a wonderfully dirty laugh, and twisted round to look at Erik. He smiled a wonderfully filthy smile.

_Sorry, darling, got a bit carried away._

"Just ask me for what you want."

_Please spank me, daddy._

Daddy. Erik's half hard cock stiffened some more. Outwardly he remained unmoved, not, of course, that he'd fool Charles.

"Out loud," he said, sternly.

Charles smile faded and his face took on an intent look.

"Please spank me, daddy," he asked, voice at its most cut-glass.

"Very well. Face down. Keep still. Keep quiet."

Charles obeyed. Erik kissed his left buttock and gave it a lick. Charles trembled. He dragged the very tips of his fingernails over the white flesh with painful gentleness. Charles quivered slightly, but didn't move and didn't make a sound. He was even quiet in Erik's head. Erik made him wait a little longer, rubbing his palm over his silky skin again and again. All that power submitting to him, quiescent under his hands. Erik had no illusions about which of them was the most dangerous. He got a burst of telepathic arousal, quickly stifled.

He brought his hand down hard. Charles ass bounced under the blow and his skin reddened. Erik sat back and admired his work.

_pleasedaddypleasepleaseplease_

"Patience, boy."

Erik struck him again, harder. Three softer blows, then three blistering ones that made Charles' buttock ripple and turn a deep red. He kept mixing it up, soft, hard, fast, slow. Charles was breathing harshly, but not making another sound. He shuddered, but didn't move.

_daddydaddydaddy_

This was the gift Charles gave him, this feeling of power, of rightness, of taking care of someone exactly the way they needed to be taken care of.

The contrast between his ass cheeks was startling. One was pearly white, the other purplish-red and burning hot. Erik's hand was stinging. Shocks of Charles' arousal kept igniting in his head. Charles was close to coming. He straddled Charles' thighs. Outside there was a flash of lightning, illuminating the dim bedroom in startling white, and a second later a roll of thunder. The sound of a downpour filled the room. The storm was right on top of them. Electro-magnetic currents flowed through Erik like water, like light, like agony, like ecstasy. He projected the sensation to Charles, who choked off a moan.

As the storm raved round the house and poured through Erik and into Charles, he struck him again, then slapped his ass with his rock hard prick. Charles sobbed and bit off the sound. Erik could feel how hard he was trying not to make a noise. He could feel the _pleasurepain_ surging through him like quicksilver.

"It's alright, my sweet boy, my good boy, you make as much noise as you want."

He smacked his buttock, then slapped it with his rigid cock. Again. Again. Again. Charles wept and screamed and cursed and blasphemed and yelled "daddy!" Erik put one hand to the back of Charles' head and forced his face into the pillow, restricting his breathing. Charles thrashed under him and came and came and came, lighting up Erik's mind and body like the storm. Erik shot come over his hot, darkened buttock and his cool, white one and the scar in the small of his back. The world ended.

_The world ended my arse, my burning, stinging arse. You are such a drama queen._

_And you have not a spark of romance in your soul._

Erik rolled off him and Charles turned over, wincing when his ass brushed the sheets, and reached down to rearrange his legs. His face was streaked with tears. He smiled so softly Erik could hardly bear it.

"Thank you for that, Erik. It was exactly what I needed. Sometimes I get so tired of having to maintain perfect control, act as the figurehead for mutants to the world, mentor a horde of children and be a shining example to my students. Sometimes I want to cede all control and be wholly in another's hands, in your hands."

The storm was moving away, the lightning a distant flicker, the thunder a vague threat, the rain a gentle susurration.

"Whatever you need, Charles, whenever you need it."

Charles kissed his eyelids and the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth. His love suffused Erik, as powerful as the storm and far more dangerous.

"I love you too," said Erik, knowing Charles could feel it, but wanting to say the words out loud.

Charles pushed into him, wrapping his strong arms around his torso and nudging his head under Erik's chin.

"We should clean up," said Erik. "We'll regret it in the morning."

_That's what mornings are for, regrets._

_Very poetic, unlike dried, crusty come._

Charles laughed, yawned hugely and pressed against Erik as though he was trying to meld them into one. His thoughts drifted into sleepy inchorence.

"Fine," grumbled Erik, "just don't blame me in the morning when you wake up itchy and bad tempered."

Come morning, Charles blamed him.


End file.
